Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1887-09-02
THE FRESILET


We had been engaged Mark and |, since
we were babies, so to say that is, when he
was still in knckerbockers, and | Just out
of bibs, we had decided that when we grew
up and had a house Of our own, it was to
be our own, his and mine, and there we
were to live together and live alone and
if the chief of our diet there was 10 be ap-
pie tarts and butter -scotches, that was our
own affair
1t is thousand pities that it was about
that house that all the ruut happened For
the fact is, | had the strongest sort of
will, and so had Mark and when it came
10 the point, it wasn't the house at all that
| wanted
For, you see, the spot where l lived,
down on the great meadow farms, was my
sole idea of the beauty and pleasantness Of
the world. Across the river, with its high
bank crowned with feathery and always
trembling and shining birches, the hills
rose, far and faint and purple vague but
here there were only the long green levels
of grass fields lying low and even with the
river that filled and sparkled in the reeds
along the edge and flowed by us broad and
grand on its way to the sea And when
the sun shone, and the sky was blue, and
the south wind was softly blowing, one
seemed as near heaven, living there, as it
is given one to be on earth
There were quite a number of dwelling
houses here, where the corners of several
of the great river farms converged, so that
although their lands stretched out in differ
ent directions, the buildings clustered to
gether like village and we always came
and went freely in each others houses, and
were more like one large family than stran-
gers and loved my neighbors every one,
and didn't want to go away from them.
And when it came 10 the question Of mar
rying and going away, | was simply deter
mined that wouldn't go away, but that
Mark should come down 10 this little gar
den of Eden, where knew every tint of
the ripe grass on the meadow, every sparkle
Of the water, every fleece of cloud upon
the blue Of heaven
And why not, Mark - | urged "Here
is this immense farm, really great prop
erty, and would you leave it to take care
Of itself, and we go to live two miles away
on your fathers place, that bleak, lone
some rock up in the air, shut in by "A pine
forest, like a great fortress-a prison, a
real dungeon -
at isn't prison to me, said Mark at
is the brightest spot in the world-it would
is Pamela but that is the way people al
ways used me
And no neighbors there - | exclaimed
nobody to run in of an evening, nobody
10 talk TO over the garden wall nobody TO
borrow Of, nobody to show your new things
to, nobody if you're sick. One might as
well he buried alive. | always thought so. -
81 should want nobody but you, Nan, if
we were married and that was our home.
1t would be simply paradise
1T wouldn't be paradise to me without
my water to see. | never liked the verse
in the Bible about there being no more sea
Pretty heaven that, without any sea to
look at couldn't live without my river.
I've always had it running by, running up
| or running down, coming from somewhere,
going 10 somewhere, life and motion.
| always look out the first thing in the morn
| ing 10 see if it's still there, and listen for
it at night And it makes two skies by
| night-one above and one below - with
stars down in the underworld and then
| by day the color, the changing light and
color, and the pushing Of the tide, taking
| you right into the mysteries. Oh, it's stag
nation without the river I'd as lief be
dead
"And think Just as much of the pine
|
mur of the boughs. And when "A wind be-
gins to blow, long before we feel it down
below, the trce-tops know it, and are whis
pering about it one to another, like old
witches brewing Storm
And there's nothing but a patch of a
| garden there in your fathers old place,
went on, without needing and here are
these long rich grass lands. And how in
the world are we to manage a farm two
miles away from it, | should like to know (
| Il know, said Mark, easily, Just a.
| you do two rods away
ITS impossible said |. "You don't un.
derstand anything about the oversight and
care that a great farm needs if you think
that
"Well, we could sell the farm, you know
"Sell the farm - | cried, starting up
MY fathers, my grandfather's, my great
grandfather"
"Your Noah's, your Adams"
'How do you dare talk SO to me, Marx
Myers, about my home ~ cried, NOR,
vexed and more
Il shouldn't think you had called my
home a prison and dungeon, he retorted
well, it is the gloomiest, the
"Now hush, my darling hush, you littl,
vixen, said Mark, laughing, with his hanl
ON my lips, ''or you'll say something you'll
| be sorry for"
You've said something you'll be sorry
for | cried-"calling me a vixen. | may
be a vixen, but if you were gentleman
but the Myerses always were tyrants, anC
Pm glad I've found you out in tines,
calm, and so cool, and so fixed in your owl
way. And I'll never, never, 90 and liv,
in your old prison house," l cried, growing
angrier and Angrier, heaven only know
why. "And you may just whistle fer YOU
dog, and go there yourself, and 20 alone
| never want to see your face again" AnC
before he could grasp me and prevent me
had flashed into the house, and shut anC
bolted the door.
He waited then he waited l shoul,
think, an hour. And / sat inside, burning
with anger, and with an unconscious sens,
Of shame, very likely, and a bitter disap
pointment, and wild, unnamed fear. AnC
at last he rose slowly and looked at tn,
windows, and turned away and called ole
Roland, and went slowly down the lane
| And he never came back. / could see hin
walking along, ever so slowly, in the cleal
moonlight, with the dogs nose in his hand
till the road turned into the wood tina
mounted the hill. And when he had gon
just threw myself on the floor, and al
but dissolved myself in my mad tears
And didn't know what the tears were for
whether for fear of losing Mark, or fo
fear of losing my home, or for fear of Civ
ing up my will but it seemed to me tina
the end of the world had as good as come
We were both orphans, we both had thes
great properties, and we had both bette
have been beggars,
That was June, and the full-moon.
didn't sleep any that night hardly know
why presentiment of evil kept me wax
ing, although l was so tired. l remembe
that moon now, hanging in the purple sky
with her white wings, like a great bodinI
ghost Every time looked out, there sh
was. By-and-by she began to frighten me
and l shut her out, but lay awake all tn
same, my mind in a wild whirl.
The next evening, in the long after GLOW
of the sunset, | tripped down the lane +
the wood, sure that should meet him, a
l always had done, ON his way to me bu
the shape | had been used to see boundin
down the path | did not see again. l wen
close TO the shadow of the wood, but onl
old Roland came and put his nose in m
hand, and waited with me while l waited
and went back with me little way whe
| went back. 1t did not occur TO me I
think that where Roland was, his maste
was not far distant. And went down tn
lane no more.
After that, then, one day crept by, an
another, and life continued in the old way
and all the business of the great farm thri1
ed in the hands Of Bryan, the directin
overseer, and all seemed to me mere idl,
ness. The moving machines were hun
Ill q I A.